


Fault

by yuffiehighwind



Series: An Eternity in Cheese Country [33]
Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: Dual Identity, F/M, Milwaukee, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-06-29
Updated: 2003-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-23 14:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11404323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuffiehighwind/pseuds/yuffiehighwind
Summary: Discord couldn't possibly be like her brother Ares, because in all the time Strife had known him, he was never the one to admit fault.





	Fault

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the 'fic series "An Eternity in Cheese Country," and here's why - after they were killed by Callisto and Xena, the souls of Strife, Discord, and Deimos were reincarnated in the late 20th century into three humans named Steve, Veronica, and Dave.
> 
> Originally composed June 2003; revised July 2017.

"Do you think this outfit makes me look fat?"  
  
Deimos thought alcohol was a food group. Strife thought chips were one. Discord found herself agreeing.  
  
"Mm."  
  
It was the absent grunt of consent. Strife knew better. Discord surmised, then, that he couldn't possibly be paying attention.   
  
"What are you reading?"  
  
"TV Guide. You’re not gonna believe this, but Xena got her own show, and--"  
  
"Uh-huh. So about this dress."  
  
Discord's turn. It couldn't have been the same Xena, anyway. She recalled a queen near Africa called Xenobia. In fact, she had formerly worked with one. It was a common enough moniker.   
  
Strife slightly turned his head. "Oh, uh, looks nice."  
  
"You said I looked fat."  
  
"When'd I say that?"  
  
"Two seconds ago, idiot."  
  
"I thought you were askin' if it looked good."  
  
Discord lightly smacked him in the head and perched herself on the kitchen counter. Strife sat on a stool at the formica fixture, leaning over the TV Guide, transfixed. Discord kicked the magazine shut and playfully shoved a stockinged foot in his face. He pushed it away and mumbled something. Discord frowned.   
  
"What was that?"  
  
"Nothin'."  
  
"You said something."  
  
"It was nothing."  
  
She frowned. "Strife…"  
  
Frustrated he blurted, "I said I'm not Deimos."  
  
Discord crossed her legs and leaned back, searching Strife's face.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
He shrugged, gazing down at the shut TV Guide, but she pressed the issue.  
  
"I asked you a question."  
  
Still not looking up, he said, "I just don't get you, Discord. First you use Deimos to replace me, then you figure he ain't good enough so you try and replace  _him_  with  _me_. It just confuses me, is all." He looked up. "No. No it don't just confuse me. It pisses me off."  
  
"I stuck my goddamn foot in your face! How does that have anything to do with Deimos?"  
  
"I know you. It's your way of flirting."  
  
"Is not!"  
  
"Yeah-so. Did it all the time to Ares."  
  
"Who are  _you_  to talk about flirting with  _Ares_ , Strife? You were all over him!"  
  
Discord hopped off the counter and stomped across the room. Pacing, Discord fumed, "I hated seeing you two together  _so much_  it made me wanna  _hurl!_ He...he'd always be  _petting_  you or some shit and... _Ugh._ Gross."  
  
Strife’s brow furrowed. "Who were you jealous of? Him or me?"  
  
Discord stopped pacing and avoided his gaze. She glared at the floor and wished it would just give out so she could fall through it. "What kind of question is that?"  
  
Strife laughed mirthlessly. "A pretty fuckin' simple one, D."

  
"What do you think?"  
  
He shrugged. "Me."  
  
Discord sighed. Damn oxygen. She shook her head. "Both of you."  
  
Strife didn't seem surprised. This bothered her.  
  
"I'm going out." She gathered up her coat, which was lying on a chair, and headed for the door.  
  
"Wait a second, Discord."  
  
No cutesy nickname. So it bothered him, too. She held her hand up.

 "No seconds. No waiting. Besides, this isn't right. We're family, remember? It...it's not right. Wrong. Wrongest. You're..." She trailed off. Couldn't look at him. What could Strife be thinking? "You're my  _son_ , after all. And...And  _besides_ , I couldn't ever be fair to you. I'm just like Ares. We're the same, he and I." She paused, then started for the door again. "I really gotta go."  
  
Strife got up and walked over to her.   
  
"Mom.”  
  
Discord gave in and looked at him. Was he smiling slightly? Apparently  _something_  about this awkwardness was really funny.  
  
"You forgot your shoes."  
  
Strife pointed and she looked down. Trying not to laugh or trying not to yell, she wasn't sure which, Discord slipped into some shoes by the couch and left.  
  
Strife gazed at the door for some seconds after, then sat back down on the stool. Opening the TV Guide he flipped to the page about Xena and bit his lip. Reality and fiction blurred once again. Silly humans. Flipping idly, he thought of what Discord had said. He figured she was wrong about herself, about them, whatever their bizarre _thing_ was, even 2,000 years later, and knew that she couldn't possibly be like Ares, because he, in all the time Strife had known him, was never ever one to admit fault.


End file.
